Chapter 91 - - 91 - The Watcher on the Roof [R18]

Chapter 91: Chapter - 91 - The Watcher on the Roof [R18]

"Your way of killing is as ugly as I remember," Nyxara said to Kraul’vun, her voice dripping with disdain as she surveyed the carnage before them.

The battlefield stretched out like a butcher’s canvas, bodies twisted at unnatural angles, limbs scattered where they had fallen. The evening light caught the pooling blood, turning it into dark mirrors that reflected the indifferent sky. Nyxara stood pristine amid the slaughter, not a single crimson drop marring her pale robes, her silver hair immaculate as if she had just stepped out of a temple rather than a war zone.

"Shut up. I don’t want to hear it from someone who believes in elegance. Still, not a single drop of blood is on you," Kraul’vun retorted, his massive frame still heaving with exertion. His chest rose and fell like a forge bellows, each breath a testament to the fury he had just unleashed. Gore plastered his armor in thick layers, chunks of flesh clinging to the crevices of his gauntlets, and the metallic stench of fresh slaughter clung to him like a second skin.

"And you are bathing in it," Nyxara replied, her lip curling slightly. She tilted her head, studying him the way one might examine a particularly gruesome insect.

"Shut up," Kraul’vun growled, ending the exchange. The rumble in his chest suggested he would have liked to say more, but even he knew better than to spar verbally with Nyxara. Words were her weapons, and she never missed.

After killing Rhys and Phelan, Kraul’vun and Nyxara bowed low toward Lucien, who remained still, his gaze fixed upward at something only he could see. His dark hair moved gently in a wind that touched no one else, and his eyes—those terrible, beautiful eyes—held depths that made even realm masters shudder. The corpses of the two fallen lords lay behind them, their bodies already beginning to cool in the fading light.

"My lord, everyone is dead," Kraul’vun reported, his voice stripped of its earlier aggression. Before Lucien, there was only reverence.

Lucien looked toward them, his eyes sharp despite his recent awakening. The lethargy that had clung to him during his slumber had vanished entirely, replaced by a predatory alertness that made the air itself feel heavier. "Good work."

With that, Lucien, Nyxara, and Kraul’vun began floating down toward Celbeth and Isalyn. Their descent was unhurried, almost leisurely, as if the carnage below was merely an afterthought. As they descended, Lucien glanced behind them and saw the mutilated body—tortured beyond recognition. It was Xylon and Thereon. Whatever life remained in them was a cruelty in itself. Their forms had been reduced to something barely human, flesh and bone rearranged into a grotesque sculpture of suffering. The wet, labored sound of their breathing carried across the distance—each grasping breath a plea for an end that would not come.

Isalyn looked at Lucien with eyes that longed for him—a hunger that went beyond words. One couldn’t even imagine that this woman had done that to the man now broken behind her, probably still breathing. But Lucien didn’t care. He didn’t care at all. The sight of her, blood-spattered and beautiful, stirred something in him that had nothing to do with morality.

Isalyn couldn’t stop herself. She rushed forward and embraced him, pressing her body against his. He felt her warmth against him and couldn’t complain. Her arms wrapped around his neck, her fingers tangling in his hair, and she pressed her face into the curve of his shoulder as if she could burrow into him and never leave.

"Lord Lucien, it was hard to even live these past few days. I thought... what would happen if you wouldn’t be able to wake up from your slumber? I was so close to killing myself," Isalyn confessed, small tears glistening in her eyes. Her voice cracked on the last words, and the tears that had been threatening finally spilled over, tracing silver lines down her cheeks. "Every day I watched you, and every day I wondered if I was looking at a corpse. I couldn’t eat. I couldn’t sleep. I just... I just waited."

"I know... I’m sorry I hurt you as well. I’m glad you are alive, but don’t worry—everything is fine now," Lucien said, gently letting her go. His hands lingered on her shoulders for a moment longer than necessary, and his thumb traced a small circle against her collarbone before he stepped back.

Celbeth wasn’t coming closer to Lucien. Not because she was angry—but because she was a little upset. She stood with her arms crossed, her weight shifted to one hip, her expression carefully neutral. But her eyes betrayed her, darting toward Lucien and then away, as if she couldn’t decide whether she wanted to hit him or hold him.

Lucien approached her, and Celbeth punched him in the chest. It wasn’t meant to hurt him—just to show him what she felt. Her fist connected with a soft thud, and she immediately regretted not hitting him harder, just for the principle of it. Lucien grabbed her hand and pulled her closer, his grip firm but not painful.

"So you are still alive?" Lucien said with a teasing tone, one eyebrow raised.

She immediately hugged him. "I missed you, you bastard. Do you have any idea how hard it was for me to fight so many people? You better make it up to me." Her voice was muffled against his chest, but the trembling in her shoulders betrayed the tears she refused to let fall.

Lucien hugged her even tighter. His hands drifted down toward her rear, then pulled her close with a possessive squeeze. The gesture was subtle, but unmistakable—a claim staked in silence.

"Can’t believe I missed this too," Isalyn said from behind them, her voice carrying a hint of wry amusement, though her eyes lingered on Lucien’s hands with something more complicated than humor.

Lucien looked toward the battlefield. It was almost evening. The sky had turned a deep bruised purple, and the first stars were beginning to emerge, indifferent witnesses to the day’s slaughter. Isalyn and Celbeth stood beside him, while Kraul’vun and Nyxara stood like guards, their presence a silent promise of violence to anyone who might dare approach.

"Well, that was easier than I thought," Lucien remarked, his gaze sweeping across the corpses of his enemies. The words carried no pride, only cold assessment.

"They were quite weak, my lord. Unlike you," Nyxara said, her voice smooth as silk. She had drifted closer, close enough that her sleeve almost brushed his arm.

"They play politics too much. So much so that they forget they are realm masters. Their work is to be stronger—stronger than ever. But whatever. Here are your next orders," Lucien said. His voice shifted, taking on the weight of command. The air around him seemed to thicken, and even Kraul’vun straightened his posture.

"Your job is to manage these territories. Three new extra territories have been added. Kraul’vun, you will manage Blackstone Territory. Nyxara, you’ll manage Azure River City. Isalyn, you’ll take care of White Crest City, and have Lady Arianwen manage Ironwood City."

"As you wish, my lord," everyone said in unison. Their voices blended into a single note of obedience, and they bowed their heads as one.

Isalyn realized that the cathedral was now the safest place in this realm. After today’s example, no one could even imagine attacking it. The thought settled over her like a warm cloak—a sense of security she hadn’t felt in weeks.

Lucien and everyone reached the village where Xandra was waiting for them. The journey passed in comfortable silence, the kind that only exists between people who have shared blood and battle. When Xandra had come into Lucien’s room and found him gone, she had panicked. The empty bed had sent her heart into a frenzy, and she had torn through the village searching for him. But then she heard the news—Lucien’s soldiers had won the war. She immediately realized that Lucien had woken from his slumber.

But after seeing him in front of her, she realized how much she had missed him. How much it had hurt whenever she saw him lying in bed, not moving. How much she had begged for him to wake up. The memories of those sleepless nights crashed over her—hours spent kneeling beside his bed, her fingers intertwined with his, whispering prayers to gods she wasn’t sure she believed in.

As soon as she saw Lucien, she forgot everything and ran for the hug. Her feet carried her before her mind could catch up, and she crashed into him with a force that would have knocked a lesser man off balance. Lucien didn’t stop her and immediately embraced her, his arms coming around her with an ease that felt natural.

"I’m glad everyone is okay. I’m happy to see you, Lord Lucien, Lady Isalyn, and Lady Celbeth," Xandra said while leaving Lucien after the hug—even though she didn’t want to. The separation felt like tearing something precious away from herself, but she forced her arms to release him.

"I’m glad to see you as well," Lucien replied, and there was something in his eyes—a flicker of warmth, or perhaps something else entirely—that made Xandra’s heart stumble.

That night, the village held a great celebration. After all, Lucien had won all three provinces. It was like a never-ending celebration. Fires blazed in every hearth, and the smell of roasting meat filled the air. Music—rough and joyful—spilled from open doorways, and the villagers danced with hope, they would live to see another sunrise.

All the villagers used to think that Xandra was with Verek—that they loved each other. But now Xandra was always around Lucien. Verek did nothing but watch from the corner. He didn’t have any strength to say anything. Even if Xandra was his wife—which she wasn’t—he wouldn’t have been able to stop her.

And after that fight with Xandra, she never even looked at him. He tried to talk to her, but she didn’t have time. She was taking care of the slumbering Lucien. Those days had been a special kind of torture—watching her tend to another man with a tenderness she had never shown him.

Verek wanted to apologize, but he didn’t know if it was too late. Maybe he could still win her. Maybe she still had feelings. He didn’t know.

He watched how happy she looked, talking with Lucien. She went inside toward the well to get some water. Verek had been waiting for any moment to find her alone to talk things out—and he finally had one.

He immediately came closer to the well, which was in the middle of the village. The night air was cool against his skin, and the sounds of celebration faded behind him as he approached. The well stood like a dark sentinel, its stones worn smooth by generations of hands.

"Xandra, I want to talk to you," Verek said. His voice came out more confident than he felt.

"What is it, Verek? I’m very busy now," Xandra said with an uninterested tone. She didn’t even look at him, her attention fixed on drawing water from the well.

"Xandra, please listen to me. I’m sorry I said those things that night. And I left you to die—I hid behind a house, I’m sorry, Xandra, please," Verek pleaded. The words tumbled out in a rush, ugly and desperate. "I was a coward. I know that. But I couldn’t stop thinking about you. Every night, I—"

"It’s fine, Verek. I’m not mad. I know you are a mortal with no realm powers. It’s natural for you to save yourself," Xandra said with a smile. The smile didn’t reach her eyes. It was the smile one gives to a stranger—polite, distant, meaningless.

Verek felt relieved. He grabbed Xandra’s hand, holding it. The warmth of her skin against his palm sent a surge of hope through his chest. "Xandra, will you marry—"

But he got cut off because someone just came—like from the shadows. It was Lucien.

"Xandra, here you are... Are you busy? With something?" Lucien said with a kind smile. The smile was perfect—warm, inviting, trustworthy. But Verek saw something in his eyes that made his blood run cold.

"No, my lord, I’m not," she immediately removed Verek’s hand. The motion was quick, almost guilty—as if she had been caught doing something shameful.

"Oh, then could you help me? I’m trying to find one of my rings. Maybe it’s in your house. Can you come and help me?" Lucien asked.

"Yes, my lord," Xandra said immediately. She was already moving toward him before she had even finished speaking.

And just like that, she was gone with Lucien. As she was leaving, Verek noticed that Lucien’s hand rested possessively at her lower back—and she wasn’t minding it. The gesture was casual, proprietary—the touch of a man who knew exactly what he had.

Verek felt like he should stop Xandra, or he’d lose her forever. But just like that night, he lacked the courage. The words died in his throat, and he stood frozen as they walked away.

Lucien and Xandra got inside her room, and Lucien closed the door while looking at Verek in the middle of the night.

And Lucien smirked.

Verek didn’t understand why. But today, he was going to tell her that he wanted to marry her. So he waited for her to come outside.

He waited and waited. At first, it was five minutes—they didn’t come outside. Then ten. Then thirty. Then one hour. The cold seeped into his bones, but he barely noticed. His eyes remained fixed on the door, waiting for it to open, waiting for her to emerge and tell him that everything was fine.

But even if he lacked courage, what he didn’t lack was patience. He waited one more hour.

What’s going on? It’s been two hours. They haven’t come out... What are they looking for that they can’t find? Verek thought. His mind raced, conjuring images that he desperately tried to suppress.

Should I go inside? I have a bad feeling about this. Maybe she fell asleep and he’s already gone, using his astral energy or something that those realm masters use, Verek thought.

Maybe I should wait a few more minutes. She might be coming outside. But what if...

That can’t be. Xandra is pure. She doesn’t even know about these things. But what if he forced himself on my Xandra? No, that can’t be, Verek said to himself. The words felt hollow, even to him.

Suddenly, Celbeth came up behind him. She saw Verek and asked, "Hey, did you see Lucien?"

Verek replied, "Lord Lucien and Xandra went inside to find some ring. But it’s been two hours and they haven’t come outside."

Celbeth laughed and said, "I don’t think they’ll come out anytime soon."

"Wh-what do you mean?" Verek stammered. His heart had begun to pound, a heavy, sick rhythm that made his chest ache.

"What? Do you really think people search for things for two hours together? You are really stupid," Celbeth said, laughing. She shook her head, amusement dancing in her eyes.

"No... no, it can’t be. She’s pure. She can’t do it," Verek said. His voice cracked, and he hated himself for how weak he sounded.

"What, you like her or something?" Celbeth said, then looked at him again. "Ohh, you love her. Well, whatever. Right now, they are dual cultivating and Lucien is spreading her core." Celbeth laughed. She said it as casually as if commenting on the weather.

"Shut up! She’s not like that!" Verek said, trying to defend Xandra. But even as he spoke, his mind conjured images he couldn’t stop.

"Whatever. Why don’t you climb on the roof? I can already feel the energy waves... Hmm, I’m curious too," Celbeth said, and jumped—landing on the roof without making any noise. Perk of being a realm master.

When she looked through the glass on the roof, she was mesmerized. Her eyes widened, and her lips parted slightly. The hunger in her expression was unmistakable.

Xandra’s house had a small square section where glass was fitted like a window on the roof, so moonlight could come inside. She loved to sleep under the moonlight, so one could see everything if one reached the roof—usually her sleeping face. But mortals couldn’t jump that high.

Verek found a ladder and immediately climbed toward the roof. He just wanted to prove Celbeth wrong. His hands gripped the rungs with desperate strength, and his breath came in short, panicked gasps.

He reached the top, but as soon as he did, he felt it—waves of power emanating from below, thick and palpable. The energy was almost visible, a shimmering heat that distorted the air and made his skin prickle. But when he saw them in a condition that he could have never imagined...

For hours he had been waiting for Xandra to come out, but he saw that her clothes were on the floor—the parts of clothing that he had never seen—and Xandra was on her bed, bent over like an animal, Lucien behind her, grabbing both her hands and thrusting his weapon inside her core as deep as he could. The sight was brutal in its intimacy, primal in a way that made Verek’s stomach clench.

Celbeth was mesmerized, as if she was hungry as well by seeing them dual cultivate. Her breath had quickened, and she leaned forward, her fingers gripping the edge of the roof.

Each thrust was so loud that Verek could hear it even though there was a glass window on the roof. The sound was obscene—flesh meeting flesh, accompanied by Xandra’s broken moans. And on Xandra’s mouth, there was but only one name: Lucien.

Verek felt stupid, like a clown. How he had been waiting for her outside in the cold while she was here, spreading her legs. Lucien’s thrusts were so hard that her rear had become red. Verek could imagine for how long this had been going on—hours, perhaps, while he stood outside like a fool.

Lucien sped up, and her moans became wild—like a bitch in heat. Verek knew that he should look away, that he should feel anger, sadness, that he should just take whatever dignity he had and leave. But he couldn’t look away. Their dual cultivation was inhumane—they were both realm masters, and their stamina and strength were more superhuman than any mortal could comprehend.

Lucien bent her head down more on the bed and thrust with inhumane speed and strength, then grabbed her hips and filled her core while still being inside. Verek could see that Lucien was filling her with his power and energy, and Xandra was taking everything in as she should. Her body glowed with each pulse of energy, a luminous radiance that spoke of transcendence.

When Lucien took out his weapon from her core, Verek’s eyes widened. He felt small compared to a realm master like Lucien. His strength was already inhumane, and so was his weapon, to fill Xandra so completely. Verek realized that he was never enough for Xandra. Maybe he felt relieved that he didn’t have to marry her, or maybe it was a cope. He couldn’t tell anymore.

Lucien turned her around and asked, "How was it? As compared to a few hours ago, you can take it pretty easily now. Are you close to having a breakthrough?"

Xandra was panting. "Ah... yesss... I’m very close."

Lucien immediately spread her legs and pushed his weapon again where it belonged. She felt full once more—in fact, she had been feeling empty for the few seconds he wasn’t inside her. She had been mostly full ever since this started. Lucien kissed her, and both of them were like wild animals, tongue licking and hugging each other. Lucien’s thrusts became even stronger, and she wanted to feel everything, so she became more bold and leg-locked Lucien. His weapon was more inside her, touching parts of her core that would never have been possible for someone like Verek.

"My lord, I’m having a breakthrough.... please fill me again," said Xandra.

"You said ’my lord’?" said Lucien, putting her breast in his mouth.

"I mean Lucien... spread my core.... fill it to the brim. I’m close to having a breakthrough," said Xandra.

Lucien heard it, and as if his weapon—his energy transfer tool—became even thicker, spreading her core wide. Xandra couldn’t hold back, and finally she was very close to a breakthrough due to Lucien’s strength.

Lucien thrust even faster, and she held the bed for support. The thrust and their strength were so much, and Lucien being a fourth realm master, she was having a hard time handling him and his stamina. Her face twisted in a way that no one would ever believe—a mask of pleasure and pain and desperate need. Lucien held her leg, and her leg was now facing upwards toward Verek. She could see Verek almost, but blinded by pleasure, she failed to see him. And even if she saw him now, that would change nothing.

Lucien was thrusting like there would be no tomorrow, and then both of them were finally close. Xandra was almost at the verge of a breakthrough.

As soon as Lucien gave his last powerful thrust, she immediately had a breakthrough. "Lucien, I’m having a breakthrough—agh!" And Lucien could hardly hear her; he was busy filling her up with his essence. And they heard a crack—the bed broke down. Lucien fell on top of her, even deeper, but they didn’t care. He had filled her so many times that her core had been reshaped by Lucien.

"Was I... good, Lucien?" asked Xandra, panting, feeling the new energy coursing through her veins.

"Yeah," said Lucien, kissing her, still buried inside.

Lucien glanced upward—directly at the roof, directly at Verek, while Xandra was catching her breath.

He smirked.

Verek saw the scene, and tears started coming out. They traced hot lines down his cold cheeks, and he made no move to wipe them away.

But he couldn’t keep his eyes away.

Maybe he still loved her.

Or maybe he just liked the desire of having her.

Who knows.